


Legends in the Pale

by mautadite



Series: Modern ASOIAF Fantasy [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2779718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Modern AU, Starks as werewolves.</i> An early morning conversation between tiny Sansa and Cat.</p><p>“Will you tell me what it was like for you? Your first change, I mean.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legends in the Pale

**Author's Note:**

> A few people expressed interest in knowing how Catelyn became a werewolf in this universe, and thus, this. I actually wrote this months ago, but kept fiddling with it as is my nature. I also wanted to post that Margaery/Sansa coda first. Now that that is done... onwards! It makes me really happy to see people looking forward to this series. Thank you so much for all your kind words. <3 Please enjoy!

Light is creeping into the sky by the time they return. Their voices aren’t very loud, but Sansa hasn’t been sleeping well all night, and the thud of the front door as it closes chases away the last remnants of drowsiness from her mind. She sniffs the air; all four of them are accounted for. Stealing out of bed, Sansa puts on her slippers and moves down the hallway, pausing hesitantly at the top of the stairs. Mum and Dad are talking at the bottom. 

Their whispered words fly over Sansa’s head, as do their exasperated nods of hello; she is too busy looking at her brothers. Jon is bundled up in Mum’s arms, and Robb is draped over Dad. Like their parents, they have dirt-smudged faces and leaves in their hair, and they look better than they did when they left early last night, but not much. They’re pale and drawn, still nothing like the energetic older brothers that she’s used to. Sansa frowns.

Her parents smile as they start walking up the staircase. There’s a bit of noise coming from Theon’s bedroom, probably one of those games he likes to play on his phone. After two years, everyone’s gotten used to him waking up unnaturally early every day.

“Now then. What are you doing out of bed, love?” Mum asks.

“I heard you come in… are they all right?”

“They’re fine, Sansa.” Dad shifts Robb in his arms so that he can stroke the top of her head.

“I thought you said they would get better after they changed. They don’t really look better…” Sansa worries at her lip, and reaches out to hold Jon’s limp hand. It isn’t burning with fever like it was before, but he’s still running hot.

“They’re just tired, that’s all.” 

Sansa looks at her brothers uncertainly, and Mum picks up where Dad left off. “They’ve had a very eventful night, but everything went smoothly, I promise you. Everyone’s always this tired after their first change.”

Sansa knows that. They’ve been talking Robb and Jon through it all for the past year, and they’ve always included Sansa, and sometimes even Arya, to make sure they all understand what’s going to happen to them. Robb and Jon had been excited when they found out that they would likely be going through the change at the same time, and Sansa had thought it might be cool too, but seeing it is very different.

“What’s going to happen now?” she asks.

“They’re going to sleep it off, take a nice long rest.” She glances up to see that her parents are sharing a look, and then Mum carefully shifts Jon across to Dad, who accepts him easily, after moving Robb to one shoulder. “Why don’t I tuck you back in, my love? Dad will put the boys to bed.”

Sansa nods, and raises her arms to be lifted up into her mother’s strong embrace.

“Give a shout if Bran needs me,” Mum says, and she and Dad kiss.

By the time her mother has carried her back to her room and brought the blanket up to her arms, Sansa can hear the birds waking up outside in the pale light of dawn, chirping and singing merrily. Uncle Benjen, who lives up at the Wall, says that they have a language all to their own, and that if you listen carefully and often, you might begin to understand what they say, laugh at their jokes. She thinks that he was teasing her, mostly, but she likes to think it’s true nonetheless. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing in the world.

On another day, Sansa would be getting up soon to get ready for school, but it’s still August. She yawns, her lack of sleep during the night finally catching up on her, but she’s still thinking about her brothers. Old Nan, their ancient babysitter, hadn’t been able to or hadn’t wanted to answer many of her questions. Sansa had had to be contented with two stories before Old Nan retired to the room Mum and Dad keep for her. It had been the one about the direwolf princess, and then the one about the fairy twins.

Mum pulls up a chair, and beams at her softly. Her hair is all mussed up and her clothes are awry and dirty, but Sansa still thinks she’s the prettiest woman in the world.

“How long are they going to sleep for?” Sansa asks, reaching for Mum’s hand on instinct.

“It depends. They might sleep all day, if they’re tired enough. When they wake up, I’ll make them tea with the old Stark recipe I got from your father. After another night’s rest, they’ll be as good as new.”

Sansa thinks this over. She’s heard it all before, but feels like she needs to process it again.

“You and Dad don’t need to sleep so much after a full moon.”

“It’s different, when you get older. Your body learns to manage the strain, and you get stronger, more accustomed to the full moons.” Little lines appear on her forehead and at the sides of her eyes. She moves closer, and the hand that is not holding onto Sansa’s drops into her hair. “Sansa, you know that you don’t need to be afraid of your first change, don’t you? You don’t need to be afraid of anything about yourself. Your wolf state is as natural as your human state, and no matter what, we’ll always be here to guide you and help you.”

“I’m not… afraid,” Sansa says carefully. She doesn’t think it’s a lie. “Just…”

“Unsure? Worried?” her mother provides. Sansa nods, frowning. Those sound like good words for it. “You’ve seen your father’s wolf form a million times, and mine as well. They don’t worry you, do they?”

She shakes her head at once. Mum’s wolf form is possibly even more beautiful than she is right now.

“Well then.” One of Mum’s fingers bops her nose. “It’ll be the same thing when your time comes. Only then, the wolf will be you.”

“The wolf will be me…” She trails off, staring down at her hands. They’re so small and fragile, her skin so soft… It’s more difficult than she would have thought to imagine it. “Mummy?”

“Yes, love?”

“When will I change?”

“It rarely happens before you turn eight. You still have a year or two before it comes upon you. Don’t worry, it’s not something that takes you by surprise.”

That, at least, makes her feel just a bit better. At least she will have time to prepare.

“Will you tell me what it was like for you? Your first change, I mean.”

“Of course. But you know it won’t be quite like yours or your brothers’ or Dad’s. Do you remember when I told you that I wasn’t born a werewolf?”

“Mhm.” It had seemed very strange at the time; Sansa couldn’t imagine her mother as anything other than she is right now. She has just as many memories of being carried around by the scruff of her neck and clinging to a warm, furry flank as she does of being held by slim arms. “I still want to hear, though. You never finished telling me about it.”

“Well…” Mum looks at the clock on the wall. “I do suppose I can tell you now, if you promise me that you’ll try and have a little nap afterwards.”

“I promise. Can you tell it to me as a story?”

Mum laughs.

“Yes, sweet girl. I can do that.”

Sansa smiles back happily, and snuggles into her pillows. When it comes to storytelling, Mum is second only to Old Nan, even if she doesn’t have them all memorised, and has to read from the book. Sansa reaches behind her on the bed, hunting around for her stuffed wolf, Lady. Story time is never complete without Lady, so Mum waits until she’s tucked in beside Sansa before tapping her chin.

“Let’s see. How should I start…”

“‘Once upon a time’,” Sansa prompts helpfully.

“Once upon a time,” Mum begins, scratching playfully behind Sansa’s ear, “there… let’s see, there lived a young girl in a land full of rivers. She lived with her father and her brother and sister near the edge of a great waterway. Though they were not a part of the magical world, they were aware of it, for their family had been friends to the freshwater merpeople that lived within the streams for generations. They traded supplies and news, and the girl’s family protected the merpeople from those who would hunt them, while the merpeople gave them songs and stories in return.”

“Do you think I could meet a mermaid one day?” Sansa asks in a whisper. In the stories, they are always beautiful and sad. Once, she had wished to be a mermaid, but the thought had felt so disloyal and mean that she’d taken it back at once.

“Perhaps. The next time we visit Grandpa Hoster and Uncle Edmure, we’ll see if any of them are feeling chatty.”

“Are they shy?”

“Oh no, not all of them. The girl and her sister had made great friends with one of the merboys, who was clever and quick, and taught them how to catch fish with their hands, and swim in the roughest parts of the river. 

“One day, the girl went down to the river for a dip, and found a boy there flirting with one of the mermaids. It was the wild wolf, the son of one of the werewolves of the north, with whom the girl’s father did business. The girl went off to swim with the merboy who was her friend, but the wild wolf followed. Although she was annoyed at first, she soon found herself becoming friends with him.

“When he next came to visit, he brought his siblings with him. Hmm, what shall we call them… There was the wolf pup, the she-wolf and the dear, sweet, quiet wolf.”

“Daddy!”

Mum laughs. “I suppose I rather gave that away, didn’t I? But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.”

“Did she become friends with the other wolves as well?”

“In time, yes. They visited many times over the next two years, and she got to know them all. The wild wolf was always kind and charming to her, but she never knew how much he meant by it. The she-wolf was a very different sort of girl than she was used to, very bold and brash, but they at long last became friends as well. The wolf pup would often tag along with them, because he liked to do everything his big sister did, as little brothers often do.”

“Is that why Bran lets me put ribbons in his hair?”

“Bran lets you put ribbons in his hair because you are very charming, and he is three and cannot actually stop you, my love,” Mum drawls. Sansa giggles unapologetically. Bran looks very cute with the ribbons anyway.

“Only the quiet wolf remained shy,” Mum continues, stroking back Sansa’s hair absently. “He was not as outgoing as his siblings. But the girl found that she could get him to talk sometimes, by going on long walks with him, asking him about the forest and his life as a wolf. It seemed a great relief to him, to be able to open up to someone in that way. Over time, they became closer.

“But then, something terrible happened.”

Sansa is used to this part in fairy tales; the twist where everything goes dark for a while before the happy ending. She hugs Lady to her chest, staring up at her mother with wide eyes. Mum is still petting her lightly, but her eyes are looking off into space, as if she’s lost in the memory. She looks a little sad.

“One day, when the wild wolf and the quiet wolf were visiting, the wild wolf took the girl for a walk down to the river. He was flirting with her, as he often did, and she paid him no real mind. The mockingbirds were screaming in the trees. They didn’t know it, but they were being watched, from the river. The merboy, with whom the girl had been spending less and less time was… well, he was jealous, I suppose. He used his river magic to cast a terrible spell, one that would draw the wild wolf into the water, and pull him under forever. Instead, however, when the girl saw the wave approaching, she moved with instinct to protect her friend, and she was taken instead.”

“Oh no…” Sansa says, voice small. Mum pats her hand comfortingly. 

“Don’t worry. The girl had grown up on the river, remember, and was a strong swimmer. She was not frightened. But on the bank, the wild wolf was enraged. What followed was a fight, and it was not at all evenly matched, for the merboy was very distressed by what he had done. The wild wolf flew into the water, straight at him, and though he had magics and cunning aplenty to defend himself, the merboy was soon defeated. The wild wolf gave him two grievous injuries; he bit off his little finger to shame him, and clawed at his tail to maim him. Later on, he was forced to give up his merman form to save his life, and he walks two-legged to this day.”

Privately, Sansa thinks that it serves the merboy right, but the very idea sends a little shudder through her. She touches her chest. It’s hard to imagine being the wolf that she has inside of her, but it’s harder still to imagine it being ripped away from her altogether.

Mum goes on.

“By the time the wild wolf found the girl’s body, the magic of the spell had much affected her, and she was pale, cold, and barely breathing. It was obvious that her life was in danger.” Here, she pauses and half laughs, giving a little shrug. “There were several things that he could have done to save her, but remember: he was impetuous and wild. He saw that she had little strength and an ailing body, and he did not think that he had the time to run for help. There was one thing that came to him naturally, that he knew would be sure to cure her. It would make her weak at first, but ultimately strong. It was a new moon that night, and new wolves can only be made on a new moon. He took that as an omen, and bit her.”

This surprises Sansa; she had been sure that it would have been the quiet wolf who gave the girl the fated bite. 

“Should he have done that?” she asks sceptically. Mum loses the faraway look in her eyes, and caresses Sansa’s cheek.

“The rules say no. Decisions like that are usually only made after a lot of careful thinking and planning, most definitely only with the agreement of the person being turned. You know that pack is very important to us; these things hold weight, and they cannot be undone.

“But if the wild wolf had not done what he had done, things would have turned out quite differently.” Mum smiles and bops her nose again. “He took her back to her father’s house, and by that time, she was already running hot. There was barely any time for explanations, because horrible news awaited them.”

Sansa hugs Lady closer, losing herself in the tempo and rhythm of her mother’s voice.

“The she-wolf and their wolf sire were in grave danger, held captive by hated enemies. The quiet wolf, alarmed though he was by the girl’s state and what his brother had done, wanted to go immediately to their rescue. But the wild wolf, brave and bold to the last, thought it would be too dangerous for his little brother. He went himself, and asked the quiet wolf to take care of the girl during her time of changing.”

“Was the quiet wolf upset, to not go?”

Mum thinks about it for a bit. “Ultimately… no, he wasn’t. And the girl, when she first came to consciousness and understood what had happened, was very glad to have him there.

“To go from human to werewolf is hard. The two weeks that led up to the full moon were full of fever and pain. The girl could feel something growing inside of her, not something that you could see or touch, but almost… almost like a spirit.” Mum presses her finger to the very centre of Sansa’s chest, to demonstrate. “Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it made her feel very strong, sometimes it only scared her.

“But the quiet wolf was always there, and he told her that she didn’t have to be afraid. Scary things come from the outside, and try to force themselves in. But seldom do you ever need to fight what’s inside of you. You only need to embrace it.”

Nodding slowly, Sansa places her hand on her chest, on the place her mother had touched. She thinks she understands what Mum is saying.

“So if you fight it… it will seem scarier than it actually is?”

“Very good. That’s right. Of course, it wasn’t easy advice to follow, but the quiet wolf was there for the girl every step of the way. He was with her every moment she was conscious, helped feed her, made tea for her to drink, explained what was happening to her, and told her tales and stories to distract her mind when she needed it. If she hadn’t been falling in love with him already, she would have started then.”

Sansa beams smugly.

“The night of the full moon,” Mum goes on, “came more quickly than she would have thought. When she first changed from girl to wolf, under the light of the moon in a clearing near her house, it hurt just as much as the quiet wolf said it would. But she also felt healed and refreshed, and the moon took away the very last of the merboy’s weakening magic. 

“That night, she and the quiet boy ran together along the banks of the rivers, getting to know each other’s wolves, laughing and playing together for the first of many, many times.”

Mum’s voice trails off, and Sansa knows the story is done; she used her ‘ending’ voice. A deep sigh of satisfaction wells up in her, as well as one of understanding. Not all of her worries have been erased, but most of them are gone. Her mother was so brave, even when she hadn’t been brought up as a wolf, knowing what she would become.

 _Like a spirit_ … Something that sounded so beautiful couldn’t be scary, could it?

“Thank you, Mummy,” Sansa says, and her sigh comes out as half a yawn. “That was really nice.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, love.” She fixes the blankets around Sansa and Lady. “How do you think I did for my first story? A Catelyn Tully Stark original.”

“Ten out of ten,” Sansa says sleepily. “Although, you forgot to say… the wild wolf didn’t come back, did he?”

She already knows the answer to that, of course. There are several pictures of Uncle Brandon, Aunt Lyanna and Grandpa Rickard in the living room and in the old albums that they pull out now and then. Dad always looks extra sad and thoughtful when he looks at them; he had loved them all very much. 

“No, love, he didn’t.” Mum gets up from her chair, and leans over to kiss her on the forehead. “Perhaps your dad will tell you that story one day, when you’re old enough, and he’s ready.”

Sansa nods, and yawns for the second time. The sun is finally starting to show the crest of its yellow head, but Sansa doesn’t think she’ll be awake to see the rest of it rise.

“I was going to ask if you think you’ll be able to sleep, but I think you’ve just answered me,” Mum says with a chuckle. “Sleep well, my little wolf.”

“Will you stay with me?” Sansa is able to ask, just before her eyes become too heavy for her. The answer comes in a fond whisper.

“Of course, dear. Just let me check on Arya and the boys.”

Sansa smiles, and nods off to sleep before she knows it, to dream of direwolves running across rivers, Jon and Robb flirting with mermaids, mermen with bloody tails, and a tiny red werewolf, glowing with light like a new life.

When she next rolls over, there is a huge, solid warmth next to her. Mum is curled comfortingly around her atop the blanket, her tail draped on Sansa’s waist. Her red-brown fur is clean and fluffy, and to Sansa, there is no safer feeling in the entire world. She wraps an arm around the strong flank, snuggles closer, and goes back to sleep.


End file.
